'And when you're sick you seem to think you've failed eternally...'

I found a ray of hope and inspiration in the unlikeliest of places recently, in the midst of a very dark time. However, I believe sometimes things find you of their own accord—sometimes things you don't even know you're looking for find you just when you need them the most.

Within the last nine months, two of my three siblings have attempted suicide. My brother—my bipolar, alcoholic, diabetic best friend in all the world—tried to kill himself in January of this year. And just about nine months later, my baby sister overdosed. She is okay physically; the rest of it will take time, and I can only hope that she will survive it. I’d like to think that this is it: we’re past the crisis point, we’ll get help and things will be okay. However, I thought that the first time round with my brother, and during what may have been the most terrifying night of my life, I ended up being the one who had him committed to the psych ward again in June. There are moments when this world is quite literally hell.

I have struggled with major depressive disorder for many years. You would never know it, were you to meet any one of us on the street. One of us is just a few years away from a PhD in astrophysics. Two of us are professionals, and more importantly (most importantly), parents of little boys. All three of us are bright and funny; independent and strong: we are the odd, irreverent, friendly next door neighbors you’d like to kick back and shoot the shit with. We come from your standard, marginally dysfunctional, typical upper-middle-class family. We have parents who love us and support us; we have friends that do the same. We don’t walk around rending our garments and gnashing our teeth. And we are just a few of the many faces of this illness.

We are scarred, but our scars do not define us… instead they are reminders of what we have survived, and we are learning (we will learn) to wear them as badges that don’t single us out as different; instead, they say, “Here we are. You are not alone. We are just like you.”

We are lost. We are afraid. We are hopeful. And we are grateful… we are grateful to have each other, to have made it this far, and we are grateful to you. Every one of you who has the courage to stand up and be heard, despite a stigma that is still very real.

Thank you. THANK YOU for talking about it—for helping remove the shame and the stigma. Thank you for giving so many the courage to speak out. Thank you for giving so many of us a voice, and for always, always reminding us that we are not alone.